


Breathe Out, Slow Motion

by unfoldingbliss



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Father-Son Relationship, Flirting, M/M, Prom, background Livewire/Mist, or as close as an equivalent this is lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-07-09 19:50:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19893394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unfoldingbliss/pseuds/unfoldingbliss
Summary: Bart’s gaze had darted to Eduardo’s lips and, as panic leaped from his stomach and swelled in his chest, Eduardo had turned away.That had been his chance. And he’d blown it. [Eduardo/Bart]





	Breathe Out, Slow Motion

“Mijo, this place looks amazing,” Dr. Dorado held his son by the shoulder, his gaze drifting from the bright yellow and red streamers above to the fairy lights draped across the makeshift bar in the far right corner. A dozen or so tables lined the gymnasium’s walls, covered with thick yellow tablecloths and topped with cheap white lace. The best Eduardo could do on his budget, but the kids didn’t seem to mind. “I hardly recognize it.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Eduardo smiled, his arms tucked close to his chest. When he had proposed a dance, his father had approved, believing it essential to the welfare of their guests. A few teens chatted and sipped on sparkling apple cider from plastic flutes. Others crowded around the photo booths near the gym’s entrance, laughing and fixing each other’s messy hair or lopsided ties. The rest took to the dance floor, swaying their hips and bobbing their heads to the local punk rock band Livewire suggested. At the moment, she stood beside Mist, their hands intertwined. Both jumped up and down to the drummer’s quick beat, giggling and singing off-key. “I wanted it to feel like those old prom movies. Like _Pretty in Pink_ or that other one - what’s it called? I remember Heath Ledger's in it.”

“ _Ten Things I Hate About You_?” his father chuckled, his grip softening. “Who showed you that? Your abuela?”

“Virgil, actually. His sister got him into all the American romcoms when he was a baby,” Eduardo smirked. He couldn’t wait for his father to mention that to Virgil. “It’s why he’s such a hopeless romantic.”

“Really? Virgil’s a romantic?” his father blinked, then matched Eduardo’s smirk with one of his own. “Seems like he’s not the only one.”

Oh. Eduardo cringed, unprepared for this turn in the conversation. He shuffled his feet closer together and fought the urge to teleport back to his room. “What’s that mean?”

“Es nada, Eduardo. Just that, well…” his father trailed, scanning the room once more and settling his eyes on the red velvet cupcakes in the buffet corner. “This color scheme - red and yellow, gold and white - it seems terribly familiar.”

“I like those colors.” Eduardo’s palms felt damp despite the cool air. “Red’s my favorite color. You know that.”

“I do know that,” he nodded. “But I also know a boy who comes by every week who likes to dress in red and yellow, likes to follow my son all across these halls, likes to stay far longer than he needs to…”

 _“P_ _apá._ ”

His father laughed, ruffling Eduardo’s hair with one hand and shaking his shoulder with the other. “Oh, mijo! Don’t give me that _papá_. You think I can’t tell when my son’s a little in love?”

“Love?” Eduardo’s voice squeaked, mortified his father could say the word with such cheerful ease. God, if only he could sink into walls instead of blinding everyone in the near vicinity. Undoubtedly, Wendy would follow him, then Livewire and Mist soon after. And they deserved to stay and enjoy themselves, not help Eduardo through this humiliating dilemma. “That’s not - I’m not _in love_.”

“So, the streamers, the tablecloths, the lights… all coincidences?”

“Yes. Exactamente.”

“And the food, the cupcakes-” his father gestured towards the buffet table, his weathered fingers inches from Eduardo’s face, “that just happen to be a favorite of Bart Allen’s, that’s a coincidence, too?”

Eduardo’s cheeks flared, the mention of Bart twisting his stomach into a thousand knots. “Aye, Dad! Can you please stop? You’re being embarrassing!”

“I’m your father, I have every right to be,” his father shrugged, his smile unwavering. He paused and looked to the band on stage, both the musicians and their instruments drenched in white gold strobe lights. Something flickered across his eyes - something sad and hopeful - and he turned back to Eduardo, smile gentler. “I’m happy, Eduardo. Happy that you are happy. You’re enjoying yourself and you’re embracing this life. Look what you’ve done for these kids! I couldn’t be prouder of the man you’re becoming.”

“Dad…” Eduardo swallowed, his body relaxing. He allowed the words to envelop him, to warm him like a clear blue sky on a midsummer’s morning. He didn’t need his father’s approval - had done fine without it before - but it was nice. His father still wanted him. Still loved him. “Thank you. That means a lot to me. You’re doing great work, too.”

“Gracias, Eduardo,” his father’s attention flitted back to the band, his hold on Eduardo just a little tighter. “But don’t forget that you’re just as young as the rest of the kids here. You should join them, have fun. Nathaniel and I can chaperone.”

“I don’t know, Dad,” he lowered his gaze, tempted to accept his father’s offer. “I don’t want any of them to feel uncomfortable. I’m their counselor, not their friend.”

“Well, if someone was with you, one of your friends, it would be easier, no?”

“Yeah, but they’re all on missions, and Tye and Asami don’t like coming back here, even for stuff like this,” Eduardo held back a frown, remembering Virgil’s text from this afternoon. An emergency mission in Germany, a potential all-nighter. Bart had sent a text not even a minute after, a mix of crying and broken heart emojis coupled with a capitalized “I’M SOOO SORRY AMIGO!!!”

Eduardo had smiled, but a piece of his heart had chipped, leaving him heavy and unfocused for the remainder of the party’s preparations.

His father hummed and gave Eduardo’s back a few gentle taps before pulling away, “I see. But you can always mingle with them, ask if they’re having fun. At least go get yourself a drink.”

“Yeah, okay,” Eduardo unhooked his arms from his chest, offered his father another smile, and walked off to the bar.

As he made his way between the tables and dance floor, the singer addressed the crowd, her voice rich and husky, “Alright ya crazy kids, we’re approaching the end of the first act. Which means, of course, it’s time for a slow dance! So grab a hand, relax, and let the Hex Girls lull you into a lovestruck spell.”

Despite himself, Eduardo watched a few of the dancers scratch at the back of their necks or cross their arms, glancing at their partners for some kind of silent invitation. Livewire needed no such ritual; she swept her hair back and bowed to Mist with dramatic flair, her fingers suspended above Mist’s collarbone. Mist giggled and accepted her hand, pulling her up and draping small arms over Livewire’s lithe shoulders. As the song began, the keyboard starting off with a slow, mellow tempo, Livewire leaned forward.

And just as their lips met, Eduardo turned away.

This party wasn’t for him. He knew this when he set it up. It was an apology of sorts, for the harvest festival's sour end. These kids had almost been kidnapped, almost subjected to the Light’s insidious schemes. He wouldn’t have been able to live with himself. To allow others to suffer as he had - that might have been too much to bear.

But that didn’t quell the thoughts of spinning a boy in his arms, of having fun like his father wanted.

“Hey, Ed!” Nathaniel waved as he approached the bar. His greeting did little to squash Eduardo’s slow descent into stupid, insufferable heartache, but he returned the wave and tried to look happy. “Everyone loves the party, especially the band! Leslie made a great choice.”

“Leslie… oh! Yes, she outdid herself,” Eduardo agreed, Livewire’s first name slipping from him. “She said she used to DJ with her friends. She has a fantastic ear for music.”

“That’s awesome. Also, some of the kids want to know where you got the cupcakes. Wendy almost drooled on me when she took a bite, swear to God.”

Eduardo chuckled, “I really, really doubt she drooled, but I’m glad she’s having fun. I actually asked M’gann if she’d make the cupcakes. I don’t know a better baker than her.”

“M’gann made them? Wow, what can’t she do?” Nathaniel’s eyes lit up, and Eduardo had to bite down a smile. His friend had a harmless crush on their fellow counselor and often asked M’gann if he could help her with boxes or escort her back to the zeta tubes. Not unlike another boy he knew.

Bart had mentioned he knew Nathaniel from the future, a secret he hadn’t meant to share. He’d swore Eduardo to secrecy, something to do with the fragility of their current timeline despite the Reach’s retreat. Eduardo had promised, taking Bart by the shoulders, rubbing his thumbs across his shirt. He remembered their stares lingering on the other, their breaths shortening, his skin warming. It all suggested more than friendship and camaraderie. Bart’s gaze had darted to Eduardo’s lips and, as panic leaped from his stomach and swelled in his chest, Eduardo had turned away.

That had been his chance. And he’d blown it.

“Yo, Ed? You in there?” Nathaniel pushed his face closer, and Eduardo snapped out of his daze. A flute of tropical punch sat near his fingers, along with a red velvet cupcake, its cream cheese frosting just a touch too excessive. “You look a little tired, bud.”

“Yeah. Just a little,” Eduardo fiddled with the flute’s base, and he muffled the sudden urge to dip his fingers into the cupcake’s frosting. That was definitely a Bart move. “Party planning can take a bit out of you.”

“Sounds about right. But, I hope you’re not too tired! We still got at least another hour of music ahead.”

“Great. Then I’ll definitely need more punch,” Eduardo replied, and took a swig from his flute, hoping the tangy citrus flavor could lighten his mood just a little. Just so he didn’t feel like a total drag.

He was about to pick up the cupcake when Nathaniel shooed away his fingers, laughing, “Hey now! Who said that cupcake was for you?”

“Umm, chabón, I’m the only one at this bar,” Eduardo quirked an eyebrow and decided to take the risk. He plucked the cupcake off the counter and rubbed its paper ridges. “Who else would this cupcake be for?”

Nathaniel merely shrugged, his grin broadening as Eduardo opened his mouth to take a bite. He caught a whiff of the cupcake’s delectable chocolate scent and wished, again, Bart could be there to enjoy them.

But instead of rich chocolate and creamy frosting, his lips met air, and his teeth almost bit the tip of his tongue. His eyes widened, the cupcake suspended between his fingers gone without a single crumb left behind.

“Sorry, amigo! Nate was saving that for yours truly.”

Eduardo’s heart thumped. That voice: jovial, carefree, and a touch of mischief weaving through its chipper tone. Only one boy could pull that off.

He whipped around and there stood Bart Allen, dressed in a dark pink button-up shirt, a white bow tie and dark blue slacks. He bunched up the used waxed paper, the cupcake nowhere in sight. Eduardo wanted to run to him, to hug him, to ask him to dance and get this whole friendship charade over with. 

But instead, he smirked and crossed his arms, praying his palms stayed dry. “I’m surprised you didn’t eat the paper. What’s that make - five times you’ve stolen food from me?”

“Hey, hey! I would never steal from a poor, hungry soul,” Bart settled his hand over his chest. “I just happened to forget that cotton candy was for you. A speedster’s appetite is never satisfied.”

“How about that pot pie at Virgil’s?” Eduardo countered, a swarm of butterflies swooping across his stomach. “Sharon even made that split pea one for me.”

“Total accident. I thought it was the roast beef and potatoes.”

“Or that candy bar Cassie specifically brought back from Argentina that, somehow, dropped out of her back pocket?”

“Okay, that one was my bad and I take full responsibility,” Bart threw him a sheepish smile. “But I did make up for it! Remember all those crash caramels my grandma made? You loved them!”

Eduardo choked back a laugh, each corner of his heart incredibly light and giddy. “Yeah, I remember them. But what happened to, I don’t know, half of them in less than an hour?”

“I’m not getting out of this one, am I?” Bart asked, not a trace of regret lingering on his face or in his voice.

Eduardo didn’t mind. “Nope. Absolutely not.”

Nathaniel cleared his throat from behind them. “Hey, you both know there’s like fifty more cupcakes at the buffet, right?”

“I don’t think that’s the point, Nathaniel.”

Eduardo jumped at his father’s light tone, unsure how he’d made his way through the crowd without being spotted. Maybe all parents had something of a superpower when they planned to embarrass their children.

“Dr. D! How are you?” Bart shook his father’s hand, unfazed by the interruption.

“Good, Bart,” his father replied. “I’m glad you could make it.”

“Well, Nate did mention there’d be red velvet cupcakes. I can never say no to those!”

“Wait,” Eduardo cocked his head, his eyes darting between his father and Bart. “I thought you were on a mission in Germany.”

“We were, but it was almost over as soon as we got there! Saved a few kids, too, but they’re staying at the tower tonight. Gar will bring them over in the morning.”

“That’s great, Bart!” his father beamed. “I can’t wait to meet them.”

“Me either,” Eduardo’s smile faltered, deciding to voice his new suspicion. “But where’s Virgil or Cassie? I know they wanted to come, too.”

“Oh, am I not enough for you?” Bart teased, pushing forward to poke Eduardo’s shoulder, “Well, neither of them received a second or third invitation from not only Nate, but your father, too! How crash is that? I didn’t know your dad liked me so much.”

“I didn’t either,” Eduardo muttered, a fresh wave of heat sliding off his neck. His gaze flickered towards his father; he didn’t do much to cover the air of self-satisfaction wafting over him. Hell, he almost glowed underneath the soft yellow lights.

“Bart’s a fantastic help at the center. I thought he deserved to be here,” his father said, keeping his tone composed. “Now you don’t have an excuse to sulk around the bar.”

“Ah, you were sulking? I didn’t think you missed me that much,” Bart moved closer, brushing his elbow against Eduardo’s chest. The touch was electric, near intoxicating.

But doubt still slithered through. Despite his father’s encouragement and meddling, could this be real? Was it possible? “Are you kidding? I didn’t -”

“It’s okay,” Bart interrupted, looping his arm around Eduardo’s, his eyes never leaving his face. “I missed you, too.”

And there it was again. Even with the melodious clatter from the stage and the invigorating dancing a few feet away, the room seemed to darken and quiet until there was nothing else but Bart’s flirtatious smile. Nothing but the smattering of freckles sprinkled across his cheeks and the softest hint of a cool ocean breeze hovering around them.

Then his father coughed. And the spell broke. “Well, Eduardo, do you have a question for our guest?”

Nathaniel snickered from behind, but said nothing as Eduardo scrounged up the little courage he could muster. Bart stared, a patient grin plastered on his face. He’d run away from home, helped defeat the Reach, set up this whole facility with his father…

Why was it so hard to ask for what he wanted?

“Do you want to dance?” he asked, his voice near inaudible above the music and cheers filling the gym. 

“What was that?” Bart leaned in, cupping his ear, “I didn’t quite catch it. Something about food?”

“Dios mio, let’s just go!” Eduardo grabbed Bart’s hand and led him towards the crowd of excited teenagers. He pointedly ignored the laughter escaping both Nathaniel and his father - he couldn’t kill them, but maybe he could put salt in his father’s coffee or tell M’gann about Nathaniel’s Martian Manhunter figurine collection.

God, who else knew about this? Did M’gann know? Did Dinah?

“Hey, Ed! Not so tight!” Bart winced, his fingers tense in Eduardo’s grip.

“Sorry,” Eduardo loosened his hold but kept his fingers around Bart’s thin wrists. They made their way to the center of the dance floor, obscuring his father’s line of vision. “I didn’t mean to. They were just being -”

“A typical, embarrassingly loving family? Definitely,” Bart chuckled. “Don’t worry about it. It happens.”

“Yeah, but…” Eduardo’s voice strained, his pulse quick and hot against his throat. Among the crowd, he realized what he’d done, what he was about to do. His voice rose, louder so Bart could hear him above the sleek guitar riffs. “I didn’t want to ask you to dance like that. I wanted it to be more -”

He paused, his next words too heavy, glued to his tongue. If he said anything else, that was it. There was no turning back to a mere friendship, no matter how convincing the ruse. And, if his father was any indication, Eduardo was hardly convincing. 

Bart coaxed him, twisting his fingers until they interwove with Eduardo’s, “Don't be scared. You can tell me.”

Eduardo shuddered despite the throng of hot bodies whirling around them, and plunged. “More romantic.”

Bart’s face slacked, his mouth parting just enough that Eduardo caught sight of his tongue. His skin pricked, and he willed himself not to think of anything else but what he just said. What he just admitted.

“You know…” Bart squeezed their fingers, his thumb brushing the inside of Eduardo’s wrist. His voice was soft and inviting, something Eduardo was unaccustomed to. “They’re not here now. You can ask again. I don’t mind.”

Bart's words compelled him to act. His large eyes, glistening like the turquoise oceans of Argentina, bewitched him to lean forward and plant a kiss near the corner of his mouth, the faintest taste of sugar wading over his tongue. “Would you like to dance, hermoso?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Bart sighed, his smile earnest, almost shy. “But I have to warn you, I’m not the best dancer.”

“That’s okay,” Eduardo said, relaxing and settling his hands above Bart’s hips. “I’m a pretty good dancer. I’ll teach you.”

And as the music played on, Eduardo twirled, jumped, and swayed his body alongside Bart’s, laughing when Bart missed a beat or when he stepped on Eduardo’s toes. Towards the end of the night, he caught Livewire’s stare, sitting at a table with Mist and Wendy. She smiled and mouthed, “ _Nice catch_ ,” before returning to her food and their conversation.

“By the way…” Bart started as the band prepped for one last song, promising a sultry lullaby to finish off the evening. “Very crash decorations. What would you say? Muy intersante.”

“Stop,” Eduardo pulled Bart closer. “You’re terrible at Spanish.”

“Just like I’m terrible at dancing! Look at that, something else you can teach me.” his breath ghosted over Eduardo's neck and his arms snaked over Eduardo’s shoulders. In turn, Eduardo tucked his hands behind Bart’s back, trying to keep his body poised.

“Seems like I’ll be teaching you a lot. What do I get out of it?”

“Have you seen this face? I say that’s fair compensation.”

“Pass. I need more than a pretty face.”

“Okay, maybe dinner and a movie? You know, that quintessential, retro dating experience?”

“I’ll consider it,” Eduardo shrugged as the music started, moving Bart’s hips to the beat. Part of him was still unsure, still scared that after tonight, everything could be ruined. Yet, perhaps his father spoke true. Maybe he could unwind, have some fun. “So long as there’s more to come.”

“Oh, believe me, there will definitely be more to come.”

They smiled at one another, and Eduardo’s chest filled with a fierce longing to kiss him. But before he could lean down, Bart continued, completely missing the wanton affection fluttering across his face, “But really, these decorations! The red streamers, the yellow lights - almost like you have some Kid Flash fixation.”

Eduardo narrowed his eyes, “Stop.”

“And those cupcakes! Did you know those were my favorites? Wait - don’t tell me. Let me think about it.”

“Stop.”

“I’m thinking… I’m thinking… Yep! You totally did.”

“I’m never going to kiss you again.”

Bart bit his lips, his chest heaving with quiet laughter. “C’mon, darling. It’s not nice to lie.”

“No it’s not,” Eduardo said, his heart skipping at the new endearment. _Darling_. He could get so terribly, terribly used to it. “But I’m not that nice.”

And before Bart could call him out on another lie, Eduardo swooped in and kissed him, his heart puddling as Bart kissed back. 

And he hoped, wherever his father and Nathaniel were watching, one of them had a camera ready. He’d really like a picture. 

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from "Night Go Slow" by Caty Shaw.
> 
> Supportive parent-child relationships will always be my jam because it's a massive projection of what I want, but I still think Dr. Dorado would be tremendously supportive of his son in all aspects of his life. In a lot of ways, he reminds me of one of my uncles. If his son wants to dance with and date a cute boy then as God as his witness, Eduardo Dorado Sr. is gonna help him get that boy!!
> 
> I also think Eduardo doesn't really allow himself to have fun anymore? Like he invests all his time in the center and work, and that's awesome, but he's still only 16! He needs to let loose, play some video games! Fall in love!! You know, all the basics. 
> 
> And yes, I think these two would tease each other SENSELESS. They know the other can take it, and it's never with any ill intentions. It's how they flirt and I find it wildly fun to write. 
> 
> Lastly, small headcanon: Bart's dad's endearment to his mom was "darling." It's sort of old-fashioned, but his mother loved it. So, Bart's always wanted to call someone that (Eduardo got lucky lmao). 
> 
> Hope you all like it!


End file.
